


#boyfriendgoals

by lesbianpatrick



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Angst, Coming Out, Fluff, Hurt and comfort, Instagram, idek, writing fanfic at 10 pm while facetiming my gf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 21:44:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6771436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianpatrick/pseuds/lesbianpatrick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete groans as he rolls over in bed and mumbles, “Th’ hell?” sleepily into his phone. He’s pretty sure he’s really hungover, and he has a sneaking suspicion that he made a mistake while he was drunk last night. At least, he thinks. He really can’t remember anything.</p>
<p>“Listen. There was a lot of alcohol at that party, yeah, but I didn’t think you were drunk enough to do <em>that</em>.” Patrick’s voice echoes over the shitty connection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	#boyfriendgoals

**Author's Note:**

> it's 11 pm, i'm facetiming my girlfriend, and i still don't know why i wrote this

“Pete, I cannot fucking believe you.”

Pete groans as he rolls over in bed and mumbles, “Th’ hell?” sleepily into his phone. He’s pretty sure he’s really hungover, and he has a sneaking suspicion that he made a mistake while he was drunk last night. At least, he thinks. He really can’t remember anything.

“Listen. There was a lot of alcohol at that party, yeah, but I didn’t think you were drunk enough to do _that_.” Patrick’s voice echoes over the shitty connection.

“Wha...’m confused, ‘Trick.” Pete kind of just breathes it into the phone, letting his eyes adjust to the sliver of sunlight streaming through the curtain.

Patrick sighs. “Pete. Check your Instagram.”

Pete obliges, putting Patrick on speaker so he can still talk. “Right. What’d I post? Can’t be that...” He finds the photo and freezes. “...bad.”

“I literally had to delete every social media app I owned, Pete. I was getting too many notifications. Yeah, it’s pretty fucking bad.” Patrick says in a calm sort of anger, his heavy breathing evident over the phone.

Pete stares at the picture. It’s a selfie he actually remembers taking with Patrick last night, before everyone at that party got Way Too Fucking Drunk (capitalized for necessary emphasis). The only problem? In it, he’s kissing Patrick’s cheek, and last night whenever he’d ended up posting it he’d drunkenly captioned it “#boyfriendgoals”. Yeah, okay, it was kind of bad.

“Well...I mean, we were probably going to say something anyway, it was probably just a matter of time?” He says it as a question, because he knows it’s a weak defense, and cue Patrick yelling at him in three, two, one...

“Oh yeah?”

Yep.

“Really. What happened to waiting until we were both ready? It takes two people to make a relationship, Pete, _two_. It’s not the fucking Pete Wentz show, okay?” Patrick’s voice has broken its calm at this point.

“I mean technically, it is the “fucking Pete Wentz” show.” Pete replies, realizing a little too late that he’d probably just made everything worse.

“Pete, I’m done.” Patrick says, somewhat weakly, and then hangs up.

Pete throws his phone at the wall in a fit of anger and bad choices. He’d really fucked this one up. Great. 

Come to think of it, he had been getting more notifications then usual, but he’d been too out of it to notice. Now that he’s fully awake, he realizes exactly what was going on.

He gets out of bed and picks up his phone. Not knowing what else to do, he calls Joe.

“Fuck.” He says simply.

Joe sighs. “Yeah, sums it up. I’m not even one hundred percent sure what you did, but Patrick isn’t talking to anyone, and I think he’s crying? So, yeah, ‘fuck’ is pretty accurate.”

“He’s crying?” Pete’s heart clenches. Oh god, he’d fucked up worse than he’d thought. 

“Um. Yeah. You might wanna get back to the bus and talk to him? He’s never gonna come to you at this point.” Joe says.

“Right. Uh, thanks Joe.” Pete mutters, and hangs up without waiting for a response.

Right now, he has clothes to put on. (Oh, and a relationship to fix.)

~*~

“Oops?” Pete offers.

Andy just glares at him. “Yeah, oops. He’s locked in the back.”

Pete sighs. “I’ll go then.”

He makes his way to the door, which, yeah, is locked. He knocks tentatively. “Hey, uh, ‘Trick?”

“Go away.” Comes the weak response.

“Hey, I just want to come in and talk.” Pete says, hoping he sounds kind and welcoming and not like an intruder.

It must work, because the lock clicks, the door swings open, and Patrick appears in the doorway. Pete can see he’s been crying, it’s pretty obvious. That just makes his heart hurt some more. Shit, this is his fault.

“What, do you want another picture for goddamn Instagram?” Patrick asks, glaring from the doorway.

“Whoa, no!” Pete puts his hands up in defense. “Hey, c’mon. You know we both took that selfie together, and I know it was meant to be private, but hey, I was drunk. I guess I just subconsciously wanted to show you off, because you’re pretty fucking amazing, okay?”

Patrick’s face looks broken, but unreadable. “I wasn’t ready.” 

Pete thinks his heart must be broken beyond repair at this point. “Yeah. I know. I made an asshole move, which is even worse because it was a drunk asshole move, and that’s not an excuse, and I’m really sorry.”

Suddenly Patrick starts crying, and Pete follows his first instinct and pulls him into a tight hug. 

“Whoa, hey there.” Pete pats Patrick’s back comfortingly. 

“‘M sorry.” Patrick mumbles through sobs.

“No, no, if anyone should be sorry it’s me. What are you even apologizing for?” Pete asks, starting to rub circles in Patrick’s back.

“Overreacting.” Patrick replies, managing to stop crying. 

“No, you weren’t. I fucked up.” Pete shakes his head. “You weren’t ready. I get that.”

“Pete?” Patrick looks up, eyes still shiny with tears.

“Yeah?” Pete asks.

Patrick leans forward and kisses him quickly, but with feeling, then smiles softly and genuinely. “I think I’m ready now.”

“You sure?” Pete asks. 

Patrick nods. “I’m sure. Commemorative selfie?”

“Fuck yeah.” Pete grins.

~*~

That day, Patrick made his first Instagram post in like, 800 billion years or some shit. It was selfie of him with Pete, and it was nothing special, except for the caption.

“ _#boyfriendgoals right back at you @petewentz_ ”


End file.
